Page 51 of Cowboys at Coconuts

Hope approached the burgundy recliner in front of the television. She could still see the indentation of Montana’s head and gasped. Gathering strength she never knew she had, she traced the backrest and arms. Staring at Larry, she said, “Mom sat here. Right here for God knows how long wondering why no one visited her.” She plopped down in the chair and sobbed.

Larry actually teared up. “You obviously loved her. Wish I could remember Montana, but I don’t.”

“The last time I spoke to her, I was so angry. It haunts me.” Hope wiped a tear away with her thumb. “The three of us had such a huge fight.”

“I don’t ’member that either,” Larry said.

Hope managed a small smile. “I’m glad.”

Leaning back in the chair, she imagined Montana sitting there and watching God knows what on television. Or reading. Maybe she read. Impulsively reaching into the side pockets, Hope felt something hard. With her right hand, she pulled out a handheld ornate, silver mirror. The glass was cracked and the finish tarnished, but it was beautiful. Sucking in her breath, Hope said, “This is stunning.”

“That old thing.” The nurse grunted. “She stared at herself all the time and dropped it more times than I can remember.”

Hope carefully traced the shattered glass. “Maybe she was trying to remember who she was. Maybe she didn’t recognize the face that stared back at her. Who knows but I’m thrilled to find one of her possessions.”

“You want that? Take it, but you really need to leave.”

Hope hugged the mirror close. “Thank you. At least I have something of hers.” Reaching back inside the side pocket of the recliner she found a balled-up tye-dye tee. Squealing like a child on Christmas, Hope said, “This is her shirt. I want this too.”

“It’s yours.” The nurse tapped her watch. “Time to go.”

Glancing toward a blue planter hanging on the door, Hope’s face fell. “That’s not the one she used to—”

“Of course not. The police have the other one but the case is closed since there was no suspicion of foul play.” Studying the planter, the nurse asked, “Want that, too? I think she made one for every resident and nurse in their favorite color.” She stared at her white tennis shoes and mumbled in a low voice, “She never offered me one.”

That comment made Hope smile for the first time all day. Carefully removing the crocheted planter off the door hook, Hope placed it, along with the colorful tee, in her purse. Hugging the silver mirror to her chest, she glanced a very quiet Larry. “I guess we should go.”

Turning toward Nurse Sunshine, Hope asked, “Where is the cemetery?”

“Across the street. Her plot is near the redbud tree along the gravel drive, right after you go inside the arched entrance. Now skedaddle.” Nurse Helga peeked at her watch. “I’m off soon.” She actually softened her voice. “Sorry for your loss.”

Hope reached for Larry’s arm. “Let’s go to the cemetery.”

Chapter 48

Before Hope and Larry exited the nursing home, someone tugged on Hope’s arm. “Excuse me. I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation earlier. I have some information about the woman who died.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Hope said, “You do? Please tell us anything you can think of.”

The kind, elderly nurse led them to a bench outside. The sky was filled with streaks of orange, yellow, and pink hues—some of Montana’s favorite colors—as the sun began to set.

Glancing behind her to make sure the double doors had closed, the nurse sat near them. “Apparently, Gypsy was taken to a hospital after the accident a few years ago. Medical reports indicated she had a fractured pelvis, broken leg, broken arm, and internal bleeding. A trucker likely in trouble with the law picked her up and drove her there according to the physician’s notes. Apparently, they determined she was drunk and stoned.

According to the report, she had been bleeding profusely. The man who picked her up apparently carried her into the hospital to get help, but as soon as they wheeled her away on a gurney, he disappeared. The trucker had the foresight to scrawl a message saying he found her in bad shape at a gas station and shoved the note in her pocket. After she received emergency care and was admitted to the hospital for a few weeks, no one came to check on her. She was in and out of consciousness. Once she stabilized, she ended up here since we accept Medicaid.

“That’s unbelievably sad.” Hope shook her head and stared at her shoes. “She died all alone. If we had only known.”

The nurse patted Hope’s hand. “I wish we had known too. Gypsy didn’t remember who she was. She didn’t have any ID on her. She was agitated most days. The only thing that calmed her was making those macramé plant hangers.

Instinctively, Hope reached for the one she had taken out of Montana’s room. “Go on.”

“We never knew she had a husband, nor a daughter. She told me she wanted a fresh start as soon as she healed.” Shaking her head, the nurse continued. “She didn’t have the capacity to live on her own. Besides her failing health, she didn’t have any money.”

“Didn’t you question her?” Hope asked. “Ask where she was from?”

“Sure. We asked her numerous times, almost daily. It’s not unusual for many of our residents to lose their memories. We finally stopped asking after months.” Shrugging, the nurse said, “Gypsy concocted a story that she had been hit by a car while walking and said the driver drove away from the scene.”

Hope threw her hands in the air. “I appreciate knowing this background, but didn’t you notice the television and newspaper reports about the train wreck?”

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